Diplomatic Troubles
by Imperator Justinian
Summary: A satire on how diplomacy works in Civilization 5. When Justinian is forced into a variety of troublesome diplomatic situations, from demanding neighbors to deranged warmongers, he is forced to use all of his diplomatic skill to get through it. Or maybe just a sarcastic remark.
1. Diplomatic Troubles

Hello there! Justinian here, with the first non-Pokémon story I've written (so far). I've decided to write this satire out of my frustration at how diplomacy works in Civ 5. Anyways, before I start, prepare for the longest Author's Notes I've given.

As a whole, Civ 5 was a major step up from Civ 4; culture, trade, technology, religion and warfare were all improved greatly as well as making the civilization you choose to play feel truly unique. While I do miss a few features from Civ 4; more than one leader per civilization, each civilization having both one unique unit and building (I miss the incredible synergy the Byzantines had in Civ 4; the Dromon may be a great unit but you can't really use it effectively) as well as the cultural aspect when it came to your population and, last but not least, random events. But those are mostly negligible considering how great Civ 5 is. But the one thing that actually got worse with Civ 5 is diplomacy.

For one Firaxis can really take a leaf out of Paradox and CA's books: Alliances, Vassalage, Trade Agreements and a real measurement of opinion (If someone's friendly to you, they shouldn't have a sudden change of heart if you convert a single city, and the tally system in Civ 4 kept that from happening). Civ 5 lacks these, ensuring that you can never have a reliable friend outside of teammates and took away many other features of diplomacy from Civ 4. There's no more map trading, tech trading, no more asking leaders what they think of someone else and no more vassals.

Likewise the relationship aspect has been really dumbed down, and seems to be based more on high school politics than real world politics (i.e.: you keep helping me whenever I ask, but I'm going to denounce you because someone I barely like more than you denounced you). Add that to the fact that the AI never forgives you for something you did two thousand years ago and you get domino-like denouncings if you make one wrong move makes for one of the worst diplomatic interfaces in Civ history. So I hope to get into these matters, as well as quite a few others involving diplomacy, in this story and hopefully tackle them in a funny manner. Before I start though, I would like to say that the main character is my namesake rather than Theodora (whose constant plotting, like Wu Zetian's, did more harm than good) and since he appeared in Civ 4 rather than 5 he'll make multiple allusions to the now defunct diplomatic aspects of said game.

Disclaimer: I do not own Civilization 5 or anything associated with it.

* * *

**1500 BC, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace**

Justinian yawned as he sat upon the Imperial Throne, absentmindedly gazing at the elaborate doors across from him, waiting for someone to come through them. He then shifted his weight in his throne, angling his arm so that it supported his head as he continued to stare expectantly at the bronze doors. He then felt his crown starting to slip off his head due to his tilted angle and reached up and stopped its decline by adjusting it. The man sighed out of pure boredom, leaned back in his throne and became limp like a rag doll.

The last few days had been particularly boring; everyone was busy doing one thing or the other, which left him only to wait here for something to happen. Yes, it was his _Sacred_, Imperial duty to stare at a door and wait for something to happen. Perhaps he could sneak off to that balcony overlooking the Hagia Sophia and read for a few hours? He then shook his head, not too vigorously so his crown would not fall off, knowing that if something were to happen that would be the first place his subjects would look for him. He then felt his eyelids slowly falling, his vision starting to become blurry.

"_I'll just rest my eyes for a few minutes..._" was his last thought before everything went black.

* * *

"Psst... Sir..." he barely heard the words, but the gentle poking of one of his aides woke Justinian up. Still groggy, and wanting more sleep to escape his boredom, he swatted away the hand before shifting over so that his back was facing the assistant. The aide then tugged at his crimson cloak hard enough that the medallion that was holding it together was starting to choke him, forcing him to sit upright. He scowled at the man, letting him know of his disapproval, but was more curious as too what was important enough to choke him over. Hopefully something that would alleviate his boredom.

"My Lord, has Montezuma requested an audience with you." Justinian sighed, he had a feeling as too why the deranged man wanted to see him.

"Bring him in." The aide bowed and ran over to the large doors and started to open them. The Aztec on the other side did not even wait for the man to finish opening them, as he pushed them, and the person pulling them, aside and strode up to Justinian.

"Hello, Neighbor!" the extravagantly, if not underdressed, king said enthusiastically. Justinian returned the man's jovial attitude with a stoic countenance.

"Montezuma..." he started, keeping his tone as devoid of emotion as possible. "Here for another "loan" I take it?" The leader standing in front of him looked like he was about to burst into laughter.

"Loan is a bit of a strong word... I prefer gift." he shook his head in irritation, but he was thankful that the man was honest.

"If you are so in need of money, why don't you pawn your hat?" Justinian replied, pointing to the Aztec Leader's golden, plume filled hat.

"Because I would be naked without it!" Montezuma replied as if it were the most obvious reason. Apparently the concept of pants still managed to elude the Aztec.

"So remind me why I'm obligated to give you money whenever you ask?" Justinian replied, hoping to reason with the unbalanced man.

"Because we're neighbors! What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine." he replied, maintaining his jovial attitude.

"Besides, if you don't I would have to sacrifice you to Qeutoz- Quetzalac- the Feathered Serpent!" Justinian rolled his eyes at not only the Aztec's failure to pronounce his own cruel deity's name, but at the sheer ridiculousness of the thought of Montezuma's army defeating his. Still, he was not in the mood to start a war, even if it would make things less boring.

"Very well Julian, what do you want?" the underdressed man seemed exuberant at his acquiescence, even if he was slightly confused at Justinian calling him Julian.

"Thank you! You can be sure I will forget about this act of kindness when you convert one of my cities."

* * *

**1380 BC, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace**

"SIR!" Belisarius burst through the doors to the Throne Room, not even caring to take a look at his surroundings before giving his report.

"Bismarck has- Sir?" he was met with an empty Throne Room, derived even of its most common inhabitant. He then realized that his friend had snuck away to that balcony overlooking the wonder he built, most likely absentmindedly reading while Bismarck's armies entered his borders. True to form, he found the man leaning on a ledge, engrossed in a thick book. He approached the immortal, the sound of his metal boots hitting the marble floors alerting him to his presence. The man closed his book and turned around to face his Great General.

"Ah, Belisarius, always good to see you, my friend. How are my Cataphracts doing?" the man inquired causally, as if he was asking about stock rather than an elite fighting force.

"They're ready to repel Bismarck's invasion." he replied, carefully selecting his words to kill two birds in one stone.

"He's declared war again? Well this should be fun."

* * *

**1380 BC, Border of Constantinople, Hilly Grassland**

Justinian gazed down upon Bismark's -to put bluntly- mob. It was clear most of them were farmers that had been pressed into war and would probably stand no chance against his Cataphracts (or, as Belisarius had once put it, moving blocks of Iron). Before he gave an order for the chainmail covered cavalry behind him to mow them down, he wanted to hear Bismarck's reason for attempting another botched invasion. Riding up to the edge of the hill, with Belisarius and three other Cataphracts in tow, he gazed down upon the massive, and disorderly, army.

"Bismarck!" He could see the tall, intimidating, grey haired man shift through his troops to reach the front.

"Yah?" simply from his tone, what resonated up to him at least, he could tell that he was not in a talking mood.

"Why attack when I crushed you last time?"

"My army zis nearly three times as large as yours!" the man replied, under the "might makes right" mindset.

"That's what you said last time. Before I crushed you." he could hear the man's hearty laughing from his relatively high position.

"Zo? You might have defeated me last time, but I had an army of warriors. Zis time I have Archers!" he announced triumphantly, to which only Justinian and Belisarius could deadpan at.

"Sir, he does know that Archers are worse at combat than warriors are?" the general whispered to the robed man.

"Let's not spoil my fun. Decimate him." Justinian commanded before riding back to his cavalry. The chainmail clad cavalry charged out before he even had gotten back to him, and, as expected, a barrage of arrows did little against the iron encased warriors. Most of them broke formation and fled after the first few lines had been trampled, leaving Bismarck and his Brute corps surrounded. Bismarck, deciding to cut losses, surrendered by paying a rather heavy tribute, and departed with the promise that he would be back when he outnumbered him with inferior troops again. Justinian in turn promised he would crush him the next time Bismarck returned. They shook on it.

* * *

**775 BC****, Countryside of Washington, Farmland**

Justinian, along with a small retinue of Cataphracts and servants, were marching along a small, dirt road to a rather secluded (if not vast) farm on the outskirts of Washington. Washington's aide had informed him that the American Leader had decided to take a short vacation on his farm, and had "helpfully" directed him to the farm.

_"Just keep going until you see something besides crops. Mr. Washington will be there." _easier said than done. For what seemed forever of staring at wheat stalks, an elegant, if not small, farmhouse came into sight at the end of the road. As his party continued to ride, despite the glare of the setting sun, Justinian could make out a group of figures working the fields in front of the Palatial Estate. As he grew closer, he noticed that a man tilling the fields in the front was dressed unusually well for a farmer. The man seemed to hear the sound of the horseshoes, and jerked upright to look at the approaching party. Seeing who it was, the man Justinian could now tell was Washington waved out to him.

"Hidey Ho, Neighbor!" Justinian simply raised his hand in return and continued to ride forward to meet the man. Once getting up to the farmer-president, he dismounted and walked over to the friendly man.

"Ah, Justinian. Why do I have the pleasure of having you drop by my humble abode?" before he could answer Washington continued.

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing we can't talk over dinner. It's getting late and I'm sure you've had a long journey." the thought of a warm meal rather than just the dry biscuits and water that he had been eating for his week-long journey sounded all too appealing for the Emperor, and he could not help but nod eagerly.

* * *

Justinian listened intently as Washington told him about one of his experiences that, despite obviously being fabricated, was regaled with enough finesse that part of him believed it. He was such a kind, if not talkative, man. Deciding that he should start eating the food that had set out before him before it got cold, he dug his fork into his scrambled eggs (not before salting them well, a subtle reminder to him of Washington's monopoly on the salt supply) all the while staring at the brown, flaky food that was next to the bacon.

Curious, and not wanting to offend the man who had taken the time to prepare the food himself, he dug his fork into the dish next, finding it slightly more difficult than he thought to keep the shredded dish from falling off his fork. To his surprise it was delicious.

"What is this?" he asked, stopping the Powdered Wig wearer sitting across from him.

"Oh? Those are hash browns." Justinian nodded in reply and took another bite out of the food.

"So, how about we discuss the nature of your visit?" Justinian swallowed his food and then realized that he had forgotten entirely about the reason why he had made the trek out here in the first place.

"Ah, yes. I was wondering if you would be willing to part with your topographic knowledge?" In response, Washington just stared at Justinian like he had grown a second head.

"What?"

"Would you be willing to share with us your knowledge of the lands west of you? Naturally we'd be willing to pay you a moderate fee for such knowledge." Despite his explanation the man across from him seemed just as confused as before.

"I am sorry to say I do not quite comprehend what you are requesting." Justinian just smiled, deciding that frustration would get him nowhere.

"It's rather simple actually. You just get a piece of parchment and a quill and get someone to draw down the lands you have discovered, then give it to us so we can add it to our maps. In turn we can do the same for you or just pay you in gold if you prefer." Washington only shook his head, rendering the crimson clad man unable to read his expression.

"I'm sorry but I just don't think I can." the man said remorsefully. It was becoming clear to Justinian that the man was just as confused to the reason why he could not provide a map as he was.

"Thanks, Sid..." he muttered bitterly. Washington looked up at him from across the table.

"I'm sorry?" The Emperor realized that his week-long journey here was for nothing, and as he stared at the shredded potatoes, another idea came to mind.

"Well, in the spirit of not leaving empty handed... How much do you want for more of these?" he asked, using his fork to point to the hash browns.

* * *

**1 AD, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace**

Justinian once again stared at the doors expectantly, the only difference from his usual duty of watching them all day was that he was standing in the foyer, waiting for his guests to arrive. How his advisers had managed to talk him into throwing a party to celebrate the new millennium he was not entirely sure, let alone talking him into inviting all of his fellow leaders. Still, the die had been cast and he could only hope that they would be civil for one night.

It was barely after he finished his silent prayer that a obnoxious knock rang out from the other side of the doors. Being as he was the host, he had designated himself to greet the guests and ran up to the doors. Opening one of the heavy, double doors he was up met with the sight of the courtyard.

"Down here, monsieur." Justinian knew the voice all too well and looked downwards to see Napoleon standing in the entryway, his foot impatiently tapping against the marble. Before he could even greet the diminutive man, he handed him his hat and grey tailcoat as if he was some sort of coat rack, causing him to let go of the door as it closed. While the Frenchman started helping himself to the food that had been set out, Justinian looked down at the coat that he had been handed. Had Napoleon taken it off a child's doll?

Another knock rang out from the other side of the door and he repeated the process to find Alexander standing behind the door, with Dido clinging to his arm. He greeted them, thankful that neither had handed him any coats, and they carried on into the room to converse with Napoleon. After pacing the miniature man's tailcoat and bicorn on a nearby chair he got back to the door just in time to open it to meet his latest guest. Bismarck silently entered the room, and rather than speaking, silently sized up his host, as if considering to declare of war on the spot. Rather he just carried on to the gathering crowd, giving Justinian room to let out a sigh of relief.

He turned back to the open door to see both Washington and Nobunaga walking up the stone steps to the doorway. It was clear that Washington was regaling another story to Nobunaga, who listened quietly as the two walked. Upon getting to the top Washington started asking him a variety of questions, while the silent, mustachioed Daimyo merely bowed and hurried inside. Once he finally managed to whisk Washington inside, directing him at the other guests for his sake, he poked his head outside, being met by an empty courtyard and crisp night air.

Surprised that he saw no one else coming, he decided to take a seat in the oak chair that he had placed Napoleon's belongings on. Situating himself, he closed his eyes and let out a yawn. Realizing where he was going, he immediately forced himself up and out of the chair. Falling asleep in front of Montezuma was one thing, in front of the leaders of every civilization while you were hosting an event was another. He then turned as he heard a series of not so gentle knocking.

"Speak of the devil..." he muttered to himself and opened the door. The man on the other side did not wait for the door to fully open and just pushed it, and the man pulling it, aside.

"Hello Neighbor!" Montezuma shouted enthusiastically.

"Neighbor?" he asked, his head darting around, trying to find the host. He then heard the iron door start to scrape against the marble floor and, grabbing the golden door handle, easily pulled the door off a squashed Justinian.

"Deja Vu..." he muttered, dazed. Montezuma then pulled him up and gave him a hug. Justinan, confused, only gave him a pat on the back while looking around for help. Nope, everyone was busy doing one thing or the other. He then tried to squirm out of the Aztec's iron grip to no avail.

"Thank you Montezuma, you can let go now." surprisingly that seemed to work and Montezuma let go before running off towards the food that had been set out, his eye set on a certain dark red beverage that was set out on the table. Fortunately he had the foresight to pour the drink beforehand and lock the rest of the bottles up.

He did not even have a chance to get out from behind the doors before they swung opened again. Fortunately he managed to extended his arms and stop them from crashing into him again. He stepped out from behind them, only to bump into his latest guest. The haughty Pharaoh stumbled back slightly at the unexpected force, but quickly regained his composure. Realizing that it was Justinian who collided with him, he simply huffed indignantly and started walking towards the rest of the group. Justinian rolled his brown eyes at the man's ability to hold a petty grudge for nearly two thousand years.

"Ramesses, all I said was that you might not actually be a god." his reasonable defense of his actions seemed to do little to the Egyptian.

"I still will not forgive you for such a trespass." the self proclaimed deity replied.

"Then why are you here?" Justinian asked.

"Who would pass up an opportunity for free wine?" Justinian was not going to argue with that logic. Not like the Egyptian gave him a chance to anyway, as he strode off towards the table that Montezuma was currently hovering over. Despite not all of the guests arriving, it was clear that most of the other leaders were already enjoying themselves, most of them gorging themselves while listening to Washington. The crimson clad man the heard the pitter-patter of someone entering via the still open door.

"Ah, Justinian, I must thank you for your generosity in hosting this event." he recognized the feminine, delicate voice of Wu Zetian before he even turned around. The small woman smiled, her red lips curling slightly, complimenting her porcelain complexion. He simply nodded and tried to offer a smile in return, cautious as to what she was planning on doing. She then got closer, uncomfortably closer, leaned up and placed a peck on his cheek.

"Try not to make a fool of yourself." she said before heading off as if she did nothing. He blushed fiercely, his cheeks becoming the same color of his robe, and could only stutter like an idiot as he tried to reply. Lord that woman was a master manipulator. Unfortunately, he had the pleasure of greeting the demented Nebuchadnezzar next, who, in order to verify his existence due to his inability to speak clearly, slapped him. Justinian's anger quickly overrode his embarrassment, and he glared at the unapologetic Babylonian. The man callously shrugged, and carried on, muttering something about someone named Daniel and visions.

The last three to arrive were Augustus, Cathrine and Isabella, who were fortunately too busy chattering to engage him in conversation. With all thirteen of his guests present, he went over to the wooden table that the food and drinks were laid out on and picked up a glass and a spoon. He tapped the elaborate piece of silverware against the glass, the sound bringing everyone's attention to him.

"First I would like to say thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to come to this, and while I know that not all of us are on the best of terms-" he noticed Bismarck and Ramesses scowling at him as he said that. "I hope that we will be able to enjoy the new millennia in peace." While most gave him a quick round of applause and went back to what they were doing, he could see Bismarck approaching him.

"What would you know about peace? You're a warmongering menace." Justinian scoffed at the man's statement while taking a sip from his glass.

"Says the man who declared war on me. Good men died because of your greed, I simply took a few cities to make sure their deaths would not be in vain." his reasoning fell on death ears.

"It's time I told the world of your sins." He then started to tap on his glass with the spoon his host had placed down a few seconds ago, drawing every head in the room to him.

"Everyone, might I have your attention? Our "generous" host zis a threat to the peace, and I want it to be known that he can not be trusted." Justinian absentmindedly took another sip from his drink, seemingly bored with the fact that he was being denounced at his own party. Bismarck's statement caused quite the unrest as the other twelve leaders started talking among themselves. Ramesses, emboldened by Bismarck's actions, decided to chime in and restate what the grey haired German had announced. This in turn, like dominoes, caused Cathrine to denounce Justinian, despite the amicable trade relations between Russia and Byzantium. Finally Nebuchadnezzar decided to contribute, but halfway through his denouncement he started to ramble about a giant statue and a tree.

"Ignoring Nebuchadnezzar, unless if any of you are willing to back up your words with military action do I really have any reason to be concerned?" Justinian asked after finishing off the rest of his glass. Bismarck turned around, his boots squeaking on the pristine floors, and attempted to stare down the Emperor. Despite being a foot smaller, Justinian offered a sarcastic smile followed by a sarcastic remark.

"Enjoy the party."

* * *

**630 AD, Tokyo, Azuchi Palace**

The mustachioed Daimyo, devoid of his usual armor, swung his katana downwards in one swift, almost invisible motion, cutting the training dummy in two clean halves. He then motioned for his student to do so to his dummy as well. Justinian brought his sword back, but as he stepped forward to slice the dummy, he tripped on his crimson robe (which he had refused to change out of), accidentally impaling the sword on the dummy's head and falling face first.

"Did I get it?" his muffled question rang out as the warlord walked over to the dummy.

"Close enough, Justinian-Kun." Nobunaga replied while pulling out the blade from the dummy's head.

"You have improved since last time; this time the dummy only sustained an injury." he then handed the sword back to the other man, before twirling his own.

"Now, wash the cart!" he shouted, swinging the sword sideways. Justinian drove his blade sideways, and, despite lacking the finesse of Nobunaga, managed to block the attack to his side.

"Paint the fence!" he then quickly withdrew his blade from the deadlock and brought it down on Justinian's unprotected head. Repeating his actions from the last time, he managed to block the man's attack at the last moment, though he lacked the strength the Daimyo had. During their short deadlock, the brown haired man noticed a small, nearly unnoticeable, grin start to develop on his teacher's face, before said man knocked him off his feet and sent him into a bucket of water with a mop sticking out of it.

"You still a bit wet behind the ears." Nobunaga said before chuckling to himself, while Justinian tossed aside the mop.

"Thank you, Mr. Miyagi..." he muttered as Nobunaga tossed him a rag.

"Now that you've told your joke for the century, there is something else I would like to talk with you about." the semi-soaked man said through the rag. Nobunaga raised an eyebrow as the man across from him stood up.

"What do you wish to discuss with Nobunaga?"

"I have heard that a certain man in Osaka has invented a device for telling sailors which way they are sailing, and I was wondering if you would be willing to share this technological innovation with us? Naturally we would compensate you."

"Nobunaga does not quite comprehend." a feeling of deja vu started to creep up on Justinian.

"Well, just like you are teaching me how to use a sword, you can get someone to teach one of our mechanics how to make one. Or we could simply purchase one from you and reverse-engineer it." Nobunaga only shook his head, causing Justinian to let out a heavy sigh. What other practical avenues of trade were closed to him?

"Thank you for your time Nobunaga." he then gave a bow to the Daimyo and proceeded to leave through the siding panel door.

"Nobunaga thanks you for your time as well. Farewell Justinian-Kun."

* * *

**1230 AD, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace**

"I'm sorry I am late everyone, but I had a pressing matter to attend to." Justinian hastily apologized as he strode into the open hall, which had been converted into a makeshift meeting place for the Third Congress of Constantinople.

"Was the pressing matter a nap?" Alexander asked sarcastically, causing Justinian to look down in slight shame. "How can you be late to your own meeting, anyway? You are the one who came up with the "brilliant" idea to create a Congress."

Ah yes, the World Congress. An idea he concocted (whether or not he was sober when he did, he could not recall) so that leaders could meet on a relatively neutral ground. The only problem was that it simply became another battle ground for some leader's petty squabbles (the fact that he had not thought of that simply gave credit to the thought that he must have drank something when he concocted this over-glorified debate club) and he was starting to wonder if the expenses were even worth the unmanifested benefits. Still, this was not really the time to be reconsidering this. Sitting down at his seat at the table, adjacent to Napoleon and Augustus, he grabbed the sheets of parchment occupying the table in front of his seat.

"Now, the first item on the list is to vote for the World Leader. Now to save time, I am presuming that everyone will be voting for themselves?" the series of positive replies, both verbal and physical, served as an answer. Justinian then shifted the pages, effectively ending the vote, knowing that no one had enough votes to assume the title of World Leader.

"And now to the second item; the various proposals. Now the proposals on the table are the following; A World Fair, A Banishment of the use of Spices, and an Embargo on Babylon. As per custom, please leave your vote next to the proposal you want or do not want to be passed." He then put his vote down on the piece of parchment his vote with an ink pen, and passed it to his left, letting Augustus put down his vote before passing it on himself. When the paper finally came back to him, he read the results aloud to the assembly.

"Let's see; the World Fair proposal has passed. The proposed ban on spices has failed." why anyone would want to ban spices in the first place was beyond him.

"And finally the embargo on Babylon has also failed." he suspected that most of the people in the room, himself included, were afraid of what the unstable Nebuchadnezzar would do if it passed.

"With that done, I will see all of you again in another two centuries. You are welcome to stay and converse if you like, but I have pressing business to return to."

* * *

Well, with that, this is finally finished. To be honest I am rather uncertain of the ending, and whether or not it was too abrupt. Likewise, as I might have someone complain about this, I am aware that there are only two proposals per World Congress meeting and that the World Leader proposal only happens in the Modern Era, but I had wanted to get into that so I had to bend the rules a bit. Besides my personal doubts on the last section, I hope I managed to achieve my goal of satirizing the poor diplomacy of Civ 5 in a funny way and any feedback on how I did is welcome.

Anyway, thanks for reading.


	2. Even More

So... While originally I said this would only be a one-shot, I've changed my mind and decided to add one more chapter. There were a lot of factors: a lot of people wanted this, I had ideas that refused to go away, and I felt a bit guilty about cancelling the Fourth Ideology after months of not updating, so; viola, the second and last chapter of the best (and only) Civ 5 Diplomacy satire, which will contain everything I missed in the last chapter, and more than a few fourth wall breaks and Monty Python references (though the satire is far more subtle). You have been warned.

* * *

**350 AD, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace**

"Bring him in." Justinian ordered from his throne. The aide who had come in seconds earlier was not even given a chance to explain why he was here, but the Byzantine already suspected it was because of Montezuma making another unscheduled stop. The aide pulled open the heavy door, and to Justinian's surprise and the aide's relief, the door did not swing open and crush the man behind it.

_"Someone actually sane wants to visit me!?" _when the doors finally were fully open, the Roman behind them took his own cue to step into the vast room of his eastern counterpart. Seeing Augustus brought up a rather mixed feeling within Justinian, though he maintained his stoic disposition. While the man was the only leader the Byzantine considered a true ally for reasons that still managed to elude him, he was also a very demanding ally. Particularly when it came to shoehorning him into whatever world domination scheme he had concocted.

"Augustus," Justinian started. Usually he would not be as curt as he was about to be, but he had a headache and wanted to read. "If this is about declaring war on somebody, I-"

"That's not why I came here, I wanted to warn- are you wearing a bed sheet?" Justinian looked down at the white cloth that had replaced his favorite crimson robe.

"I got blood on it." Augustus inwardly blanched at his reasoning, praying that Montezuma was not starting to rub off on one of the few sane leaders left.

"Regardless, I came to warn you that my agents have discovered a German plot to attack you." Justinian seemed as uninterested as before.

"Anything else new?" the tunic clad Roman visibly reeled at his apathy.

"You- You aren't concerned in the slightest?"

"Bismarck's had his troops on the borders for years now, I'm surprised you didn't see them on your way in. Belisarius is keeping them in check right now. He even said he had managed to gain the upper hand in his last report." Augustus raised an eyebrow in response.

* * *

"Rummy. I'm out." Belisarius stated as he threw the last card in his hand into the discard pile, ending the game. The various officers seated at their makeshift table, German and Byzantine alike, started grumbling.

* * *

"When did you get that report?" Justinian looked to a scrap of paper on his armrest, picked it up and read over the header.

"Well, it was written about ten minutes ago, and it was delivered to me minutes before you arrived." The Princeps' eyes widen considerably for a moment, darting back and forth from Justinian to the paper in his hand.

_"There's no possible way any of his riders could have transported a message that quickly... Good Lord, he has gone senile!" _Before he could leave as quickly as possible, both leaders heard a very loud crash, followed by the sound of broken glass being treaded upon. Another aide ran into the room clutching a rock, which appeared to have a piece of paper tied to it by a length of rope. The Emperor took it and plucked the paper out from the rock, while an incredulous Augustus looked on, mouth agape.

"Ah, it appears they won the skirmish." he informed his ally.

"How..."

"Belisarius has been sending his reports via catapult, but it would seem he has still yet to work out the right trajectory. At least it landed in the antechamber this time," Justinian extrapolated while looking past Augustus, trying to survey the damage before adding on an afterthought. "I still have the concussion from his last message."

"There's no way any Catapult could launch a stone that far accurately and hit its target." Justinian developed a barely noticeable smirk.

"Of course it can, we are only two hexes away after all."

Before the bewildered Augustus could reply, a series of sudden shouting could be heard in the antechamber, between one of the aides and a voice both knew all too well. "I'm sorry, but you need to wait! The Emperor is busy with another gue-" the man never had a chance to finish his sentence as a crash louder than the one that had occurred seconds before rang out, followed by the sound of someone dropping to the floor. Bismarck strode in a few seconds later, brandishing what was left of a flower vase.

"Herr Chin! I demand zat-" The proud German immediately sized up the Emperor, and merely scowled at the sight of him wearing a bed sheet.

"You remove your troops from za border at once!"

"What? My men are within the boundaries of my borders! Besides; you were the one to order your troops to the border first, Bismarck, in a clear attempt to invade me. Meaning this merely a defensive move. If anything, I should be asking _you _to remove your forces from _my _borders." Justinian replied hastily, his tone baring a bit more aggression than usual.

"You're not permitted to request zat from me, Herr Chin!" Bismarck replied, even more aggressively. Augustus decided to intervene before Bismarck decided to use the jagged remains of the vase he was clutching. But before he could, another voice, considerably far more cheery and aloof than Bismarck's, rang out from the foyer.

"Hello, Neighbor!" All three leaders looked up to see Montezuma closing the massive bronze door to the throne room, only so he could swing it open again and strut in. Justinian let out a heavy sigh, which everyone was oblivious too, and slumped back in his throne at his newest guest.

"Montezuma, I'm a bit busy right now. I would appreciate it if you could wait-"

"Oh this won't take long neighbor, I'm just here to request a third of your annual income. Nothing too unreasonable this time." Bismarck and Augustus looked shocked at his usage of the word 'unreasonable', and were taken aback even more when Justinian waved off the fellow leader followed by a muffled acceptance.

"Now vait here!" Bismark cried out, drawing Montezuma's attention. "I might have vanted to drive a sword through Justinian more zan a few times, but there would be no fun in fighting him if he could not afford an army!"

"Thank you, Bismarck... I think?" Justinian replied, his face contorting into one of inquisition, as if thinking about the very words he had just said before continuing. "But I already have quite a bit stored aside for this very occasion."

"You do? Well, I'll just take a third of that." Justinian groaned in response, pinching his nose while Montezuma just continued to smile like an idiot. Augustus finally spoke up.

"Montezuma, if Justinian does give you such an outrageous sum, the least you could do to repay his favor is with another one later." Montezuma let out a psychosis filled laugh that sent shivers down the spines of the three other leaders.

"Please, Firaxis will never figure out a way to keep track of favors."

"Enough of the fourth wall breaks, please." Augustus sighed. The other three leaders all looked at him, each with a different expression. Augustus then blinked a few times, before the metaphorical light bulb went off over his head, causing his hand to fly to his mouth.

"Please leave, all of you. I need an Advil." Justinian bemoaned.

"You've researched Penicillin already?" Augustus asked.

"No, but we need a reason to end this scene and this situation is already awkward enough." Justinian then turned his head.

"And now for something completely different."

* * *

**970 AD, Berlin, Stadtschloss Palace **

Justinian and Bismarck were seated at a very elaborate wooden table, one that's length was preposterous to the point the Justinian just elected to sit to the right of the dismayed German rather than all the way across the massive room. The other occupant of the table would normally have been outraged that his nemesis had defiled his home by his mere presence, and Bismarck would be sure to burn the furniture he was sitting on once he left, but currently the grey German had just buried his head in his hands to hide his shame, not to mention his quiet sobbing.

"Now," Justinian started, his brown eyes quickly scanning over the content of the documents he held.

"If you agree to this, _which you will_," the Byzantine soldiers that filled the room suddenly seemed to be far more intimidating to the broken chancellor. "A sum of five-hundred gold will be transferred to our treasury, you will pay an annual fee of fifty gold, any cotton you produce will be given to us, and you will become our vassal state."

Bismarck then looked up at the Emperor next to him, his face displaying every sign of confusion, save his eyes which were still red and puffy from something he would never admit to have done. "Vat?"

"You will become our vassal. Is that so hard to understand?" Bismarck nodded hesitantly in response. Justinian sighed, a hand immediately going to his forehead in frustration.

"It's not something that is difficult to understand; you either agree to serve us with a limited amount of freedom, or I throw you in a prison cell for a few centuries or so and annex all of your cities instead." despite Justinian's incredibly blunt explanation of the dilemma before Bismarck, it still seemed to be beyond his scope of comprehension. The Byzantine could feel another migraine coming.

"Please, just sign it Bismarck so both of us can get back to business."

"I am afraid I cannot, Herr Chin."

"Then I suppose I will just have to take your cities instead."

"I vould not if I were you." Justinian just sighed, now thoroughly convinced that Bismarck was simply stalling, hoping for a rescue that would never come.

"And why is that?"

"The Warmonger Penalty you will get from taking my three cities would put you at a disadvantage for centuries to come." the man in the red cloak smiled in a barely noticeable, almost sardonic manner, before addressing the stiff leader next to him.

"That doesn't concern me too much Bismarck. Besides, I believe I have angered every other leader in one way or another by now, what's an Aggressive Expansion- I mean Warmonger penalty? Ah, but I think we've gotten off topic. Since you seem so intent on resisting logic, I believe I shall just relieve you of your duties." Justinian then motioned for two of the guards behind him to remove Bismarck, and the flabbergasted German was promptly hoisted out of his seat by the men and dragged the from the room, while Justinian promptly ripped the paper to pieces.

* * *

**1453 AD, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace **

"I would like to thank all of you for agreeing to come here to found the World Congress alongside me." Justinian said to the assembled leaders, who numbered fourteen in total (which included the still captive Bismarck). The gathered figures all responded with an acknowledgement, be it verbal or physical.

"Wasn't the third meeting two hundred and thirty-three years ago in the last chapter?" Alexander asked, which prompted Nebuchadnezzar (as Alexander had the displeasure of being forced to sit next to him) to smack him outside the head. Alexander started to curse under his breath while nursing his sore head, but made no further complaints about the timeline. Justinian, who had eyed him wearily from his position at the middle of the table they used, decided to speak again.

"Before I begin, I would like to go over some ground rules."

"How many are there?" Ramesses asked, already trying to formulate loopholes.

"It goes to eleven," the Emperor replied before looking down at the hastily scrawled piece of paper he held. "One; no drinking of any alcoholic beverages during these meetings." Napoleon scowled and downed the last of the glass of wine he had brought before Nobunaga poured him some of the tea he had made.

"Two; please refrain from any unnecessary violence." Alexander then promptly slugged Nebuchadnezzar, knocking him out in one blow. The other leaders quickly recovered from their shock, and immediately looked back to Justinian.

"I said unnecessary." Justinian knew he would regret those words later. "Three; No singing." No one wanted to know why he had put that on the list.

"Four; No breaking the wall of the same name. Five; Three, Sir." the latter managed to solicit multiple bewildered looks from his fellow leaders.

"Six; There is no rule six."

"He's gone senile." Alexander whispered to Washington.

"Haven't we all?" was the American Leader's equally silent reply before he adjusted his tailcoat.

"Seven; Please refrain from committing any sacrificial rituals." everyone looked to Montezuma, who was sharpening his ceremonial dagger on the edge of the stone table. He seemed confused by the sudden attention, and merely smiled cheerfully and gave the other leaders a friendly wave before continuing to grind the obsidian against the stone. What followed was the sound of two adjacent chairs scraping against the floor.

"Eight; Please do not bring in any novels." Dido crossed her arms in response.

"Nine;" Justinian's eyebrows furrowed at what was written, trying to decipher the mess that was his handwriting. "I'll just skip over that." he muttered to everyone's confusion, which quickly followed by many of the other leaders theorizing about what he had written.

"Ten; No denouncing. Eleven; Milk, Eggs and Che-" Justinian's eyes widened in horror at the realization that he had accidentally copied the last items of the grocery list he gave the servant onto the paper. That then immediately made him wonder what the last item on that list was, while Augustus slapped his forehead and groaned. Justinian then exhaled and slowly sat down, trying his best to not make eye contact with his peers.

"With that out of the way," he started, his voice considerably far more difficult to hear due to the fact that he was looking downwards. "Why don't we begin the vote?"

"For what?" Alexander asked.

"The World Leader. Now, I assume we can do this in a civilized, orderl-" Justinian couldn't even finish his sentence, as he had to immediately dive under the table as almost every leader in the room lunged at him for a chance to become the most powerful being in the world. No one noticed the Byzantine crawl out from under the table, clutching a piece of paper and quickly flee the room, nor did they notice that the list of rules he had written down had gotten misplaced in the struggle.

After the Emperor slowly slid the doors to the meeting room as quietly as possible, he turned around to see Augustus gazing out one of the windows overlooking the city. The Roman than turned to his counterpart, shattering any hopes of escaping unnoticed.

"Things seem to be going according to plan, hm?" Augustus' voice was laced with the sarcasm that Justinian often made use of, and said man was too overwhelmed by everything that had just occurred to respond.

"Another brilliant idea, Justinian. We may just have to do this again in, oh, perhaps another two hundred years? It would certainly be worth the wait. I should be taking my leave anyways."

Augustus then patted his flabbergasted ally on the shoulder, before removing the ballot from his grip. The Princeps then promptly ripped it to pieces and threw the shreds out the open window he was gazing out of a few seconds ago, before striding out of the hallway.

* * *

**1625 AD, Madrid**

A panoply of cavalry slowly made its way down the streets of Madrid. Clad from head to toe in mail and bearing multiple pieces of flashy regalia, they were a sight to behold, an antiquated curiosity, to the denizens of the capital of the Spanish Empire, who had poured out of their homes and crowded the balcony and streets to see them. They were slowly taking their time in getting to their destination, clearly enjoying the attention, though none of them would dare to break their circular formation and give any to the being they were protecting.

The caravan finally came to a halt in front of the Spanish Palace, and the two soldiers in the front directed their mounts to part so the leader in the center could maneuver. Justinian got off the rickshaw that he had been sitting in, which had been pulled by Bismarck (who was still his prisoner), and walked over to the gap in the formation. Before he headed into the palace, he turned back to admire his handiwork.

Being a man of the law, and having lived for some five thousand years, he had come up with some rather creative punishments, but this one even managed to surprise him. Nobunaga had been kind enough to send him a rickshaw for his three thousandth birthday (being as all the leaders shared a birthday, it had become something of a global holiday), though he really had had no use for it until the past few hundred years. And seeing as Bismarck, who was still dressed in his stiff military uniform, was sweating and wheezing under the hot afternoon sun, it appeared that his judgment was starting to take its toll. To further add insult to injury, he had decided that all of his bodyguards would be cavalry.

Content with what he had done, Justinian turned to the palace doors while Bismarck slumped over and fell back into the rickshaw. Upon getting to the doors, which he noted were a vulgar display of wealth due to the fact they were solid gold, the two Tercio guards on duty immediately gave him a salute before opening the doors for him. He walked into massive antechamber to be met with only a single aide, who wordlessly motioned for him to follow. He did so, and after what seemed like hours of climbing staircase the two arrived outside a plain wooden door. The aide then knocked on the door in an irregular pattern that was clearly a method of communication with the being on the other side.

"Enter." a dignified, if not cold, reply came from the other end. The aide then pushed open the door and ushered the leader inside before leaving. Justinian observed that he was in what could be described as a living room of sorts, and Isabella approaching him from the direction of her prayer bench tucked away in a corner.

"I usually do not accept requests for audiences out of the blue, but given recent events I assume you are here for the same reason the other leaders were?" Justinian replied with a curt nod, as part of him was relieved that they could skip the formalities and begin negotiating for some of Spain's newly acquired Chocolate. The two leaders took a seat at a table that seemed to have suffered an abnormal amount of wear and tear over a short period of time, and Isabella reached for a quill and a stack of papers that had been set to the side. Justinian cleared his throat as she began writing something down on the sheet.

"Now, I believe we are prepared to offer you a shipment of various dyes, a resource you do not have (surprisingly), in return for a shipment of your chocolate." Isabella frowned as she wrote down the offer, considering the amount before jotting something else down.

"I believe I will need more than that. I do not need the dyes, but from what I have heard; you need the chocolate." She then slid the piece of paper across the table to Justinian, accompanied by a spare quill. He picked up the paper and gawked at the amount of gold written on it.

"Is this zero here a typo?" he asked, to which Isabella shook her head. Justinian pinched the bridge of his nose and blotted out the last zero on the number before sliding the paper back to the Spaniard.

"This is only a tenth of the sum I requested."

"Five Hundred Gold _and_ three decades worth of dyes is preposterous, Isabella. Be glad I'm willing to pay any amount of money for the Chocolate, being as one resource for another was fair enough." The woman seemed to consider his words before looking down at the sheet again.

"I will need some insurance that you will be willing to uphold your end of the deal." She then passed another amended version of the treaty back to her peer. Justinian glanced over the contents, before using his quill to write down another item.

"If I am to pay you on an annual basis as well as upfront, I will need insurance myself you will not renege on our agreement." It was Isabella's turn to look down at the sheet once again.

"If you want some of our steeds, I will have to ask for access through your borders." Justinian appeared bewildered at the latest demand.

"But our Empires are on opposite ends of the continent!"

"And?" The two leaders both seemed to reflect on Isabella's reasoning.

"Well, If we're going by that logic, I might as well ask for the same in return."

"You will need to give me an equal trade if you want this treaty to go through, Justinian." Justinian's right eye subtly twitched at the word equal. Eventually the two started to bicker over the smallest detail, shuffling various papers back and forth, constantly changing the terms of the agreement. Eventually mid-afternoon started to transition into evening, and both leaders decided to take a break from the negotiations and have dinner while catching up. Once that break was over, the two promptly wen back to arguing for the next couple of hours, before finally managing to reach an agreement.

"I think that this will be agreeable to us both." Justinian exhaled, holding a piece of paper that was by far the one with the least ink on it out of the mass of documents that occupied the table and surrounding floor. He began to reexamine the paper, doing his best to not move his hands which were covered in paper cuts and ink stains, before reading it aloud.

"I will give you a shipment of marble in return for twenty gold, which you will give to me in return for three sheep. Those three sheep will be traded for thirteen hats and a horseshoe, which will be traded in turn for an encyclopedia. That encyclopedia will be given to me in return for a violin, complete with bow and resin, at the cost of one gold per year..." the exposition continued for some undetermined, but certainly long, amount of time until Justinian finally got too the crux of the agreement.

"In return for the fifty gold and a shipment of dyes of various colors, you will give us a supply of chocolate. Is _this _agreeable too?" Isabella did not immediately reply, rather she tilted her head up in a not so subtle gesture of pondering. That instilled a sense of dread in the robed Byzantine.

"Would you care for a counter-offer?" Isabella then slid a single scrap of paper across the table to the wary leader, who then read it. All it said was 'Dye for Chocolate'. Justinian wanted to scream.

* * *

**1990 AD, Constantinople, Blachernae Palace**

One of the many things Justinian had learned over the course of his nearly six thousand years of life was that politics were a dull and dirty activity. However, throw thirteen other immortals into the mix, all of who were equally old and mentally ill in one way or another, and then stuff them into a hot, crowded room for nearly three hours, and it suddenly became very interesting. Throw Ideologies into the equation, and it became volatile.

And such was the situation at the Umpteenth Council of Constantinople, where Justinian was trying to imagine he was anywhere else. The constant bickering around him about which ideology was superior and whatnot was not only keeping any sort of vote from taking place, but it was threatening to break the last thread of sanity he had left.

_"I swear... If I hear one more mention of 'Mother Babylon' I'll-" _

"The Demon King demands acquiescence!" Nobunaga, who Justinian was certain had gone completely power-mad by now, shouted.

_"Close enough..." _Justinian then eyed a nearby can of unopened soda with a certain psychosis as a very devious, and idiotic, idea began to form. Augustus noticed this, and wordlessly stood up from his place next to him and swiftly left the room. Whatever harebrained action Justinian was about to commit, he wanted to be as far away from the carnage as possible.

The leader grabbed then aluminum can and started to discreetly shake it as fast as humanly possible underneath the table. Right before he brought up the drink-turned-weapon, a small sliver of doubt permeated his mind. He knew that this would be his Rubicon. But another voice entered his head and reminded him that founding this over-glorified debate club was also his Rubicon. The man pushed both voices out of his head and brought up the soda can like he was holding a firearm. Before anyone could react, he opened the can.

What happened next, Justinian would not remember save a very tense silence after almost everyone at the table had been sprayed, and then promptly being shaken out of his temporary insanity due to the ire he had just drawn. The immortal blinked a few times, slowly processing what had just happened, and then looked over everyone at the table. Nobunaga was slowly reaching for the sword strapped to the side of his armor, Alexander was desperately trying to fix his hair, Montezuma was crying over the fact his cellphone had shorted out, Dido just had her mouth agape, Bismarck was close to ripping out the armrest of his chair and using it as a blunt object, Catherine was sending him a death glare over her ruined makeup, and Washington just seemed to be indifferent to the fact he was soaked. But the most terrifying thing he saw was the look that Nebuchadnezzar had plastered on his face over his ruined beard.

A series of thoughts immediately ran through Justinian's mind as to what to do next.

_"Run and hide? Pretend nothing had happened? Plead insanity? Do something even more outrageous? Play it off?"_ He choose the last two.

"Now that I have your attention," Justinian did everything he could to remain calm and composed. "I am sad to inform you I will be disbanding this council." Fortunately for his sake, his ploy seemed to work on nearly all the other leaders in the room as almost all of them gaped at his announcement. Before any of them could object he quickly stood up and strode out of the room with an air of confidence, only to completely break down into a nervous wreck once he closed the door.

"I didn't know you had it in you." Augustus, who had apparently been listening to the scene unfold, remarked snidely. The Eastern Roman was too busy letting out a breath he did not know he was holding in to reply. Augustus walked over and extended an arm to his downed ally, which the other man graciously took.

"So what now?" Justinian blinked a few times, unsure of how to reply.

"I... I don't know, Augustus. Perhaps isolation will do me well, I think I've suffered enough at the hands of these madmen long enough."

"So you're going to sic them on me, now?" Augustus joked. That seemed to illicit a chuckle from the other man.

"Probably. But I'm a bit tired right now, and I think I need to go barricade myself in my study before the shock wears off." the Byzantine Leader then turned and ran down the hallway as fast as his legs could carry him, and was out of sight within a second.

* * *

And, this chapter (and story) is done as well. This will probably be the last Civilization one-shot I'll have out for a while, though I do have a few more planned. Anyway, thanks for reading.


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